


Nothing But the Truth

by osprey_archer



Category: The Lost Prince - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Loyalty, M/M, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/pseuds/osprey_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco visits the Rat in the infirmary after the Rat escapes from a Jiardasian interrogation. But the truth serum that the Jiardasians gave the Rat hasn't quite worn off yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But the Truth

A nurse caught Marco just before he went into the Rat’s room in the infirmary. “Don’t go in! I have to talk to you first,” she said.

The urgency in her voice unnerved Marco. All the unease that he had repressed during an afternoon full of council meetings flooded back to him. “They said he wasn’t badly hurt,” Marco said, and was proud to hear how steady his voice sounded. “Only some bruising: the Jiardasians didn’t have time to torture him before he escaped...”

“Oh, no, he’s not badly hurt,” said the nurse. She sounded apologetic. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s only that he’s...not quite himself at the moment: they gave him a truth serum, and the effects haven’t worn off yet.”

“A truth serum!” said Marco. 

“That’s not quite the right name for it,” she said. “It doesn’t force you to tell the truth, exactly. It creates a compulsion to talk, and to keep talking. You’ll have to interrupt if you want to say anything to him. I just didn’t want you to be surprised if he seems a bit...off.” She smiled. “He recounted the entire battle at Waterloo for me.”

Marco smiled too. “That sounds perfectly normal for Captain Ratcliffe,” he said. “But thank you for telling me.” 

The Rat didn’t respond when Marco knocked on his door. Marco knocked again, a little louder. “Rat?” 

“Marco! Come in. My face is _awful_ , isn’t it?” The Rat sounded cheerfully delighted, like a child showing off a particularly ugly skinned knee. Looking at the Rat’s bruised and swollen face, Marco felt a little sick; but the Rat didn’t even pause. He just kept talking. “I didn’t say anything to them. I mean literally: I didn’t even open my mouth. I knew if I opened my mouth even just to answer the most innocuous question, I would just keep talking and eventually I would tell them _something_ they wanted to know, maybe without even noticing. So I just kept my mouth shut. I felt like a tea kettle, like the words were this pressure building up inside me, so I imagined the words shooting out of my ears like jets of steam, and it _did_ help a bit, but you have no idea what a relief - ”

The nurse had been right: Marco would need to interrupt. “Did they hurt you badly?” Marco asked, sitting on a chair next to the Rat’s bed. 

“Oh, not at all,” said the Rat. “They were just furious that I wasn’t talking. There’s nothing more infuriating than someone who won’t say anything at all: it’s even worse than insulting them. Maybe I should have tried that, just swearing at them, but it seemed too dangerous, because what if they diverted me into talking about something else? So I just kept my mouth shut. They roughed me up a bit, but not badly at all: my father used to do worse. He hit me with a chair once, only he was so drunk, he didn’t really mean to - only I don’t want to talk about that, Marco, and you don’t want to know, anyway.”

If the Rat ever wanted to talk about it, Marco would have been happy to listen. But Marco couldn’t say so now, when doing so might force the Rat to continue talking about it when he clearly didn’t want to. 

In any case, the Rat had rushed on already. “The Jiardasians didn’t beat me badly at all. They weren’t really thinking about torture, you know, they were just so frustrated because I wouldn’t speak, I wouldn’t tell them anything, not even the slightest detail. I would never betray you; I love you so much.” 

Marco couldn’t help smiling. He knew, of course, that the Rat loved him, but he had never heard the Rat say it in so many words. “I love you too,” Marco said, and patted the Rat’s hand. 

The Rat graped Marcos’ fingers. “But not as much as I love you,” answered the Rat, and looked horrified all over again. “I don’t mean that as a criticism. I don’t expect you to love me as much as I love you.” 

“Why not?” Marco asked, taken aback. 

“Because you’re so perfect, Marco, you’re so honest and brave and pure, and I’m not, I’m so bitter and angry and I don’t have your faith, or your patience; and you’re so beautiful, and I’m a cripple, a hunchback.” 

“Do you think I care about that?” Marco burst out. 

“No, of course not; it doesn’t matter what just friends look like,” said the Rat. His fingers moved restlessly on the edge of the blanket. “But even if we were just alike - you’re the prince, and I’m just your aide de camp. You’re not _supposed_ to love me as much as I love you. You have to think about bigger things, about what’s good for the country, while my highest goal is to look out for you, because to me you _are_ Samavia. I would die for you, it’s my _duty_ to die for you, but it would be utter foolishness for you to die for me. Your life is more important than mine.”

“That’s not - ” protested Marco. 

“But it is true! You’re the only heir: if you died, Samavia would descend into civil war again. Whereas if I died, who would care?”

“I would,” Marco said, and suddenly he felt very annoyed. “You’re right, of course,” he forced himself to say. “It is - it’s always possible that someday you’ll take an assassin’s bullet for me: we already send you out on scouting trips like this Jiardasian debacle, and no one would even think of sending me in harm’s way. 

“But all the rest of what you said, does any of that really matter? So what if I’m, what did you say - if I’m calmer and more patient than you? You have a lot of qualities I haven’t got. You’re much cleverer than I am: you figured out that my father was the lost prince, and I didn’t realize it until we had reached Samavia. You barely had any schooling at all when I met you, and you already understood tactics better than I did. We’re good at different things: that’s why we make such a good team.”

“Yes, but - oh Marco, please just leave. I’m only going to keep talking, and it’s just going to make it worse,” the Rat said. “Please leave, please, please Marco, _please_ , because if you stay I’m just going to tell you that I love you, that I’m in love with you, that I’m as soppy as a milkmaid over you, and I wish the Jiardasians had shot me when they had the chance because at least then I would have been spared this misery and embarrassment and - ” 

Marco kissed him on the mouth. 

The Rat’s lips continued moving against Marco’s: talking, although the kiss stoppered up the sound. Marco drew back, and the Rat continued, “ - ought to send the Jiardasians a thank you note. Did you really mean that kiss, Marco?”

“Of course,” said Marco. “I love you too. But maybe we should talk about it when you have a little more control over what you say?” 

“That might be sensible,” said the Rat. “That’s another thing I love about you, Marco, you’re always thoughtful and unselfish. If it were me, I wouldn’t leave until I’d listened to you babble for an hour about all the things you liked best about me.” 

Marco put a hand lightly over the Rat’s mouth. “How about I tell you all of those things now?” he asked. 

The Rat sucked in his breath, as if he could defeat the babbles, like the hiccups, by holding his breath. He nodded. Marco began to talk; and he talked till his voice dwindled to a hoarse croak, and never ran out of things to say.


End file.
